Falling, Falling
by lmeden
Summary: Harry and Draco go very far back in time. By accident.
1. Prologue

TITLE: Falling, Falling  
AUTHOR: lmeden  
PAIRING: Harry/Draco  
RATING: R (mild)

WARNINGS: Character Death, Vampires, Insanity  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

SUMMARY: Harry and Draco go very far back in time. By accident.  
NOTE: I've had this in the works for a while (after reading "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell), but what really seemed to pull it together was a mention by Hermione in _The Price of Magic_ by ac1d6urn. "Some books in the Restricted Section transfigure their readers into rats or Petrify them or pull them onto the page. There are cabinets that trap people inside for weeks and doors that lead halfway across the globe." Well, I thought that there was something about paintings, but I guess not.

Prologue

The stone floor was so rough and unworn by the passing of feet here that each separate block was like a step. He had never been to this part of the castle.

Harry and Ron rushed down the winding corridors - they were late for Transfiguration. "I don't understand," grumbled Ron around mouthfuls of toast, "why you couldn't have woken me up earlier. You got up practically at dawn."

Harry glared back. "I was distracted." He had been - watching the sunrise and then trying to finish his Transfiguration essay. Before he had realized it, it was almost ten minutes until class began. Then, in his panic, he had discovered that Ron was still snoring away. Hermione had left them to their own devices ages ago. So, they were late.

He wondered where Malfoy was right now – what was he up to?

They were in the last hallways before the classroom when Harry noticed the painting. He had overlooked all the others in the halls, but this one caught his eye. It was a beautiful landscape of deep green trees. Something made him pause.

Then he knew. There was nothing besides the plants in the picture. All the pictures at Hogwarts had someone in them. Perhaps this painting's inhabitants had just left. In any case, the picture seemed _so alive_ – even without life.

He would have to look at it later. Harry rushed to catch up with Ron and tried not to drop his bag in the process.

----

Though Harry tried to find the forest again the next day, he couldn't. It simply wasn't anywhere he looked. He tried all of the halls near the Transfigurations room, but nothing. He couldn't remember anything to guide him either. He hadn't been paying attention enough to remember what portraits had been nearby.

About ten minutes later, he gave up. It had only been a painting anyway. He could barely remember what had fascinated him so much the day before.

When he returned to Gryffindor, Hermione was nearly in crisis. He hadn't even been away for very long. He didn't understand she was so…then he remembered. They had planned to revise essays that morning. "Where have you been?" Hermione demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Outside."

She looked at him incredulously for a long moment, then grabbed her bag and stomped away. Harry sighed. Another lackluster essay for him. Hermione was far too upset to help him. He'd have to do something for her later.

How stupid it had been to search for that painting.

---

And then, weeks later when he was least expecting it, Harry found the painting again. Again he was fascinated by it, staring for a moment before he even realized what he had found. Deep within, Harry felt unease begin to stir. It wasn't right, that a painting could grab him so – make him want stare at it – fascinate him for no reason. It was enchanted, and he should get away from it.

Harry shifted to turn, but his eye caught on something that he had missed - or been too ensorcelled to see, a tiny part of him whispered. In front of the painting stood a boy with shining, whitish hair. Malfoy.

The other boy had a hand raised and stretched towards the painting, his lips slightly parted. He seemed even more entranced with it than Harry had been. Harry's unease turned into loathing. Malfoy was going to _caress_ the panting that _he_ had found.

How dare Malfoy stare so fixedly at Harry's painting? He stepped closer, then paused. This was completely horrible. The painting had grabbed him again. Slowing down, he tried to use reason. No use getting worked up about it. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. He would leave this time – leave that damn painting alone and never look for it again.

A hiss came from behind him – "Potter." Harry whipped back around.

Malfoy was staring at him, his face twisted in loathing, wand steady in front of him. Rage boiled inside Harry, but he tried to remain calm. He just wanted to leave. He could come back and see what Malfoy was up to later, but having a fight was simply not going to help that cause.

"Well, Potter? Too much of a coward to fight me, are you?" Harry saw red and whipped his wand out, but Malfoy stayed still.

"Calling me a coward, Malfoy? You're the one who's been sneaking around all year. I know you're up to something. You've been at it all year long. But it's almost spring, now. Too much of a coward to finish what you started?"

Harry saw Malfoy's face drain of blood with satisfaction. That was it – he'd hit it. Malfoy was a coward and too afraid to finish whatever Voldemort had sent his to do.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly didn't notice the sickly yellow of the hex Malfoy sent at him until it was almost of him. He dove the to side, hitting the floor jarringly. He whipped his wand around. "_Stupefy!_"

Wouldn't it be lovely to just leave Malfoy here as Malfoy had almost done to him on the train? He wouldn't break the boy's nose though – he wasn't barbaric. But Malfoy conjured a quick shield and Harry leapt to his feet and Harry's daydream shattered.

The leaves of the painting shuddered behind Malfoy's head, and Harry could almost believe that they were there in that forest. Then Malfoy moved and Harry threw a hex at him, and they were dueling again.

The duel continued for several moments – so long that Harry began to wonder why no teachers had heard them and come to intervene.

They made their way closer to each other as they dueled, and Harry was suddenly inspired. He sidestepped Malfoy's next curse, which looked far more dangerous than it should for a simple duel, and stepped right up to Malfoy and punched him.

The sudden shock of pain in his hand was worth it as Harry watched dull surprise spread across Malfoy's face. The boy stumbled backwards, his hand lashing out at the last moment and latching onto Harry's wrist.

Malfoy snarled, pulling Harry with him as he fell backwards. Startled, Harry fell forwards, his balance gone. He noticed at the last moment that Malfoy was falling towards the painting behind them.

Harry reached out to catch himself, but instead of hitting the painting, his hand passed straight through the canvas and a blast of icy air hit it on the other side. His eyes widened in horror.

In slow motion, Malfoy seemed to try to see what had terrified Harry so, then he had fallen back into the painting, his thin hand a tightening vise on Harry's wrist.

The last thing that Harry saw was the gentling rustling leaves above him.


	2. Part I

Part One

"To His Coy Mistress"

_by Andrew Marvell_

_---_

The room is dark, and there is no sky outside the window. The curtain is drawn, but all that is beyond the glass are the dark walls and glimmering windows of a vast city.

The city stretches far into the distance, and seems to never end.

The furniture in the room is sparse. There is a dark wood desk placed near one of the wall. On top of the desk a small lamp is switched on, and casts a golden glow over the thick parchment pages scattered across the top and down onto the floor below. The glow nearly reaches the dark corners of the room, but not quite.

Suddenly part of the dark wall detaches from the rest – a door. Light floods in from a hallway beyond and then the man closes the door and the room is dark again.

The man walks over to the desk, pulls a spindly chair from the darkness of a corner, and sits. He is neither tall nor short, though that is irrelevant because he is sitting. His hair is messy and black, and scattered across his head and face in all directions as he leans over the parchment.

The hands that place a quill and bottle of black ink on the desk are thin and long. He is pale – nearly white. His eyes that stare intently at the blank pages are green – inhumanly bright. A small scar in the shape of a lightning bolt disfigures his forehead.

And then, slowly, as if every moved is considered and reconsidered fifty times, he begins to write.

And long, spiky script flows across the page.

"I have lived a long time – longer than anyone in this world, except perhaps for one other.

I was never meant to live so long. It was an accident coupled with coincidence that gave me this cursed life. I have had to make the best of my life, and despite losing everything that I love several times – as I fear I will again, soon – I have been content.

But now I must return to what I once lost – and perhaps lose everything that I have. So I am writing down my story – our story – for everyone else to understand. I will send it to Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by Hedwig.

She found me again tonight, and I cannot tell you what joy that brings.

To begin, my name is Harry James Potter. I am known as The Boy Who Lived in this day and age. But my life has been so long that that title means nothing to me.

I am sure that you know my story – the story of The Boy Who Lived. So I won't tell you that story. I will begin my story where it diverges from the story you know.

I cannot remember the time before all of this well. I remember a beautiful castle. If I bought a pensieve perhaps I would remember more. I remember friends and enemies, and a time when we only played at hate.

I lived at Hogwarts. So did Draco. Everything else that I remember is clouded.

Then we weren't there anymore. How we left, I still don't know. An accident? Maybe. A spell? A trap? Neither Draco nor I would admit to having sent us back so far in time, had we done so.

And then we were trapped here, in this foreign past, with the _consequences_ of our actions.

I don't think I will be glad to return. It has been too long, and too much.

Though I must. I must stop Draco. He cannot be allowed to carry on.

I will start at the beginning. It was a new beginning for Draco and I. The beginning of something that cannot rightly – ever – be called life.


	3. Part II

_Had we but world enough, and time,_

_This coyness, lady, were no crime._

_---_

"The first things that I really remember are leaves. I had left Hogwarts and landed in leaves.

I woke up groggy. For a moment, I couldn't remember anything about how I has gotten here. I was cold, and so I pushed aside my worries about memory for practicality. I was too cold. I needed to get inside.

Something had happened, and I was outside. A cold storm had come down on Hogwarts. And I had fallen asleep outside. How stupid was I, I thought? Ron and Hermione would be looking for me. I had to get inside.

With that though consuming my mind I turned, moving a numb hand and trying to get upright. I used my other hand to straighten my glasses, and was suddenly frozen inside as well as out by what I saw.

On the icy ground next to me, hand extended towards me, lay a boy. Pale, with soft whitish hair blowing across his cheek in the icy wind. Malfoy.

Malfoy was here. Something had happened. I had been following Malfoy all year, but nothing had happened then. _What had just happened?_

Malfoy lay unmoving on the ground, and for the moment I couldn't be bothered to check whether the boy was alive or not.

I thought back, and remember going to Divination with Ron. I remembered talking ith Hermione about our essays. I remembered breakfast, for godssake! Why couldn't I remember why I was outside?

I looked around, alarm growing within me by the instant. I couldn't see Hogwarts. All around me were pale trees and the heavily laden branches of evergreens. The school was nowhere in sight, and this looked nothing like the Forbidden Forest.

I tried to calm down. After all, I couldn't recognize every bit of the Forest. My gaze feel on Malfoy again. Anger flared up within me. I glanced quickly around. Only more leaves, and dull sunlight. And that bastard.

He'd done something. I was here, in some sort of forest that was freakishly cold, with Malfoy and no one else, and Malfoy was just sitting there, well, lying there, looking innocent, and _damn him_. Whatever had happened, _damn it_, was his fault.

My anger burned its was through my chest and made its way to my cheeks, warming them. I surged to my feet without thinking. Oh, I _hurt_. My joints screamed with the movement and I gasped slightly.

I looked up at the leaves. They didn't change, no matter how long I looked at them. Stuck again. Stuck in another situation that I would have to fight my way out of. Nothing in my life was optional. Everything just _had_ to happen to me.

I turned my head and stared at Malfoy for a while, hate boiling in me and making me ache even more. He'd been up to something all year, cursing Katie and sneaking around Knockturn and the school. Maybe this was it. His grand plan.

Quite a terrible plan too, if he was stuck here with me. Well, he'd pay. I reached into my jumper suddenly in panic and found my wand tucked there. I exhaled gratefully.

I looked up and couldn't find the sky. Everything seemed so hopeless. When I looked down, Malfoy was looking up at me. His eyes shone like a mad creature in the dark.

He stared at me for a long moment, then pronounced bitterly, "Potter".

Malfoy's fault. And he dared say my name that way. It certainly wasn't my fault. It wasn't as if I actually knew enough to accomplish this sort of – dislocation or whatever it was. We were obviously far removed from where ever we had been.

Or maybe not – don't overwork yourself.

I couldn't bear to be near him anymore, so I turned to walk away. Moving helped a bit – I wasn't as cold. An hoarse "Hey!" echoed behind me, but I kept moving.

The leaves were thick and heavy, and surprisingly hard to push through. Like running in a dream. With that thought I stopped. A dream. This had to be a dream.

I heard harsh breathing behind me and Malfoy struggled up. He leaned over my shoulder like the creep he was. "Well, what now Potter? You got me into this, so get me out."

I whipped around. "Excuse me?" I couldn't believe - or maybe I could - that he was going to blame this whole thing on me. He always did - but it wasn't like I could fix anything.

Damn, I wish I could. Just a glance around showed me how foreign this place was. I wanted to go back home - to Hogwarts.

"Don't blame me, Malfoy. I don't have anything to do with this. It's _your _fault." My voice came out hard and fast.

"Really," he sneered. "I don't recall having done anything. I wouldn't put a stunt like this past _you _though. Certified rule-breaker and saver of worlds. This sort of _thing_ is just like you."

Damn. I nearly punched him right there but pulled back. Maybe I could find my way out of this and _leave_ him. I wasn't going to just stand around and listen to him. This was the Forbidden Forest; I just knew that it was, no matter how strange it seemed. If I kept walking, eventually I'd find the edge, or something that I recognized.

Malfoy's eyes met mine for a brief instant, and they were cold. "This isn't my problem," he said tersely. I stared at him in disbelief as he stomped off. He had drawn his wand and was slashing at the plants around him, cursing and slicing them to shreds.

What an immature idiot. I cast a look of disdain after him and turned away. Feeling superior and pretty good about my self-control, I began to walk to the left. It seemed like as good a direction as any, and the light was coming from that direction.

But after a few steps something caught the corner of my eye and I turned to look at it and stopped in utter horror and shock.


	4. Part III

_We would sit down, and think which way _

_To walk, and pass our long love's day._

_---_

A gasp strangled itself in my throat as I stared at the beast. It had simply…appeared in front of me! My heart pounded and my eyes stretched wide in fear.

The great cat in front of me was huge. It was nearly as tall as I was, and it stared directly at me. It looked like a lion, but with stripes. I blinked, then cursed myself. It would come after me.

This was worse then the acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest. They had spoken – could be reasoned with. This was a beast. Its eyes were inhuman – completely.

And it smelled, even from the few hundred yard distance that I was at.

It was...primal.

I heard Malfoy continue to stomp away and curse in the distance. Slowly, the cat's eyes left me and swiveled in Malfoy's direction.

So typical. Malfoy would bring me here, to this gods forsaken place, and then the creature would kill us.

The cat bounded away, suddenly startling me into a gasp. My heart pounded harder, but the cat didn't seem to have heard me. With a sinuous leap it was gone – as soundlessly as it had come.

My heart pounded feverishly in my chest, and I prayed for it to stop. I stood frozen, still recovering from the sheer shock of the apparition. Slowly I began to breathe easier.

It was gone. _SHIT, _my mind suddenly screamed. It had gone after Malfoy.

Not really thinking, I turned and sprinted in the direction that Malfoy had gone. I couldn't believe that I was going to go try and save _him._

I couldn't hear him anymore, so I simply ran in the direction that I remembered, my heart beating more slowly. I wasn't simply standing in fear and shock. Now I was doing something.

A grin split my face. I felt a lot less hopeless for the first time since I had awoken here.

The sharp leaves of trees slapped at my face, and I was grateful to my glasses for protecting my eyes. I bobbed and weaved, feeling a thrill inside, something like quidditch, and suddenly caught sight of the cat.

My thrill drained away and I slammed to a halt, nearly falling.

There was Malfoy, walking more quietly now, but still angry. He was stiff and refusing to look around him. If he had, he might have seen the great cat stalking him, just barely visible behind the trees.

I slipped forward quietly, cursing Malfoy for walking quickly and for generally making my life harder. That bastard couldn't have done the sensible thing if he tried.

If he was telling the truth and didn't know what the hell had happened and why we were here, then he shouldn't have walked away from me. What a fool.

I finally managed to reach Malfoy. As I did so I realized that the creature had most likely begun stalking me as well. His hair shone in the moonlight. He was cursing under his breath.

When he saw me he jerked to a halt and sneered. "I though I told you, Potter—" he began loudly.

I practically leapt on him as I grabbed his arm and dragged him after me, weaving through the trees.

Malfoy snarled, "What do you think you're doing?"

"There's something after us."

He was sneering at me – I could tell from his tone of voice. "I seriously, doubt that, Potter. I haven't seen anything in—"

"What, the whole five minutes that you've been wandering around here?" I countered. "Face it, Malfoy. You've no better idea about this whole situation that I have."

Malfoy tried to jerk to a stop, pulling me off balance. I stumbled and turned to look at him. He looked horrible – paler than usual with dirt smeared over his cheekbone. I knew for sure, with a chilling certainty, that he was as tuck as I was.

I dropped my voice a whisper and tried to be patient. "There is a giant cat _stalking_ us."

I turned and started walking again, and Malfoy came with me. "What, can't charm it with your 'magical creature prowess'?" It took a moment for me to realize that he was referring to our third year, and Buckbeak. I just shook my head and hissed with frustration.

I walked faster. "Do you know any way to get it off our scent, or something?" I bit out the sentence. Hagrid had not taught us anything about stopping dangerous creatures from tracking us. Now that I though of it, it seemed like a terrible oversight.

Malfoy didn't say a word.

Suddenly we broke out into a clearing. I froze and Malfoy ran into me. I the middle of the clearing was a herd of enormous deer, taller than us both.

Fuck. Did everything in this shithole have to be larger than life?

The deer didn't run as I had expected them to, but simply stared at me, chewing lazily. Thinking quickly, I waked slowly to the side, dragged Malfoy into the nearly bushes, and crouched down.

He tried to pull away. "Are you mad? If it's after us, hiding won't—" He froze at the cat came into sight.

It was moving quickly, but slowed almost to a stop when it saw the clearing and the deer. I began to move forward with painful slowness, shoulder blades high and smooth. I glanced at the deer – they had frozen completely.

Suddenly the deer broke and fled, streaming away through the trees. The cat snarled – almost a roar, really – and bounded after them. And it was gone.

My breath started again and I turned to look at Malfoy. His lips were set in a thin line and his eyes creased with pain. "What?" I asked him. If he had been hurt – if he was bleeding – it would probably bring every great beast for miles after us and we would never get home, we would die.

But Malfoy simply glanced down at his arm and I saw that my grip had tightened so much to be hurtful. I pried my fingers away and flexed them.

Malfoy stood up, and I followed a moment later. I half expected him to yell at me – tell me that this was all my fault. I watched him warily. He stood, there, quiet. So shaken and strange looking in this cold night.

I moved restlessly, scanning the clearing for movement. "Potter, where are we?" he asked. I turned to look at Malfoy but he didn't seem to want to meet my eyes.

I stared around, at the dark and broad leaves, the giant glowing moon, and the great prints mashed into verdant earth.


	5. Part IV

_Th__ou by the Indian Ganges' side_

_Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide_

_----_

Malfoy walked ahead of me, but this time he was silent. His shoulders hunched forward and the silence that he had fallen under was oppressive. I was reluctant to speak to him. Instead I focused on trying to find out where we were.

I had my wand. That was a step. But I didn't know ay spells that would show me our location. I stared at my wand, spinning as we walked. I wasn't going to let Malfoy get away again.

After a time, he stopped and whirled on me. I stared at him. _What now?_

He glared for a moment, then pursed his lips and spoke, almost reluctantly. He was so unattractive, all the time. And annoying. I had my own thinking to do, and would have preferred if he hadn't felt the need to speak at all.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

I stared at him for a moment. I couldn't believe that he was actually asking me that. As if we hadn't already figured out that this was some sort of freak thing we couldn't get out of.

He stared back, grey eyes wide and arrogant. I hated him. That arrogant, hideous prick. I felt the hate strangle my heart and my lips compress. I opened my mouth, then closed it. _Damn it._ I wasn't going to get into some idiotic fight, in a place I had no clue about, with a person I would rather simply walk away from. So I turned, and left him. He could get eaten all by himself next time.

I just couldn't take that boy. I didn't know what had possessed me to save his life, anyway. What I really wanted to do was get home. I thought of Ron and Hermione and Hogwarts and nearly stumbled with the homesickness.

The leaves grew thicker and thicker as I walked, and so did my thoughts. I didn't know where I was, or how to get back to Hogwarts. I stopped and leaned against a soggy tree, trying to think. Suddenly I had it.

I dug in my pocket and found my wand. I checked it out in the dim light - it looked fine - not broken or anything. So I reached out, heart thrilling, and said,

"Point me Hogwarts."

The wand spun and spun. And kept spinning. I closed my hand to stop it, and it wobbled and fell to the ground. Slowly, I picked it up. What could it mean, that the wand spun and spun and spun? I tried again.

"Point me Ron Weasley."

"Point me Hermione Granger."

Nothing. It always just spun. I slowly sat, balancing the still-spinning wand on my palm. I began to realize what it seemed Malfoy had realized earlier, when he turned to me with those horrible eyes. We weren't anywhere near home. And we weren't going to get back anytime soon.


	6. Part V

_Of Humber would complain. I would_

_Love you ten years before the flood,_

_---_

"I sat there for a long time, staring at my spinning wand. Finally I seized it, and it halted. I shoved it away and turned. Malfoy stood behind me. Staring at me. _Again_, damn it! Why couldn't he do anything on his own?

The boy had to follow me and watch me all the time. He couldn't go off on his own, or try to fix this himself. No, just like everyone else, he looked to me to solve his problems. To my horror I felt my heart and stomach clench, and my eyes begin to prickle.

_Goddamn it_, I was _not_ going to cry.

I took several deep breaths that barely shuddered at all and looked away from Malfoy. I was being unfair. No one looked to me to solve their problems. I always got myself into these situations. If I hadn't hated Malfoy enough to follow him, or hit him, or insult him.

Yes, I could admit that I was a dick sometimes, but so was he. And we had to do something about this whole thing. Feeling a bit better, I turned back to Malfoy.

Who was gone. Not even the leaves were moving. How could I have missed him simply walk away? Suddenly I smiled, then laughed.

He was gone. He had left me and he wouldn't bother me anymore. The grin that split me face threatened to tear my cheeks, it was so big. I laughed and laughed. He had left me. Now I could solve this alone. I didn't have to worry about him watching me, or hating me, or trying to kill me again.

So I turned my back on the spot where Malfoy had stood, and walked away.

I walked around until that old, dark world grew darker and colder. I tried to stay straight, and not simply walk in circles – the very thought of doing so forever made me cautious – but there was not a single landmark to guide my way.

Hours later, I began to be thirsty. But I could find no water.

And the next day I grew hungry. But of course, there was no food.

Eventually I grew tired – inexplicably and terribly tired, and sat down against one of the tall trees around me. I gathered pine needles around me to keep me warm. I was numb all over by then. Even my mind had grown still.

For a long time I had thought feverishly and tried every spell that I could think of. But I had run out of ideas long ago. So I sat.

I leaned back against the tree, pulling my hand through my wet and matted hair. I felt horrible, and lonely and filthy. I ached inside. But eventually, I slept, leaning against that tree that smelled fresher than any I had ever been near.

When I woke it was still dark. There was almost no light at all, just a soft light that I must have come from the moon. It was a sudden relief to find that the moon still existed.

Now I knew what I had to do. I had to find Malfoy. It had been stupid for me to simply let him wander away. We needed to work together. He obviously knew a lot about the Dark Arts, and though that stuff wouldn't help us, perhaps he could guess what had happened. I could at least be useful as defense against the creatures that we had seen, and would probably see again. I paused a moment more, then stood, stumbling at the pain of cramped muscles. I raised my wand.

"Point me Draco Malfoy."

I hadn't said his first name in a long time - almost forever. It felt strange in my mouth. But the wand focused quickly, so I started slowly after him, tripping rather often on the foliage.

I followed the wand as best as possible. It quite often led me straight into thickets and other obstacles. I stumbled through and around them, growing more tired by the moment. I simply didn't want to have to look for Malfoy anymore. He seemed so far away. But I kept walking. And then I heard him.

Malfoy was shouting, and I thought for a brief moment of panic that he had gone abruptly mad.

But as I came closer to him, I saw that he was practicing some sort of ritual. He was holding his wand high above his head when I finally saw him. Slowly he was screaming foreign words. He was very pale.

As I watched he moved his wand slowly from above his head to right in front of his heart. Then he said a spell. I didn't recognize the spell, but I knew that it was one because of the rush of magic that ran through me when he said the word. It was a harsh word, and made me realize for the first time how scoured of magic this place was.

Malfoy gasped right after he said the spell, and sank to the ground. As I watched, he moaned and sobbed and I was released from my shock. I ran through the last trees and fell down on my knees next to him. As I reached him, Malfoy clutched blindly at my arm. His hands were covered in blood.

I gasped in horror. "What have you _done_!?" I was going to panic all over again, I knew. I didn't know any healing spells – none at all – which seemed so _stupid_, but there it was and I stared at Malfoy and his brilliant vermilion blood gleaming in the moonlight.

He spoke, and his voice was terrible and liquid as he choked on blood. "Trying…to go home," he inhale and I was nearly sick at the sound.

"You stupid fool," I cried. "Trying some dark magic or unknown magic or whatever the hell you've done in the middle of nowhere – magic that apparently requires you to _kill yourself_." I sounded unhinged, I knew, but I couldn't help it.

Malfoy smiled slightly as his body finally slid to the ground. I followed his gaze to our hands, which were clasped tightly together. _Oh, how terrible this end._

Then the magic caught us up.

It was a terrible magic and it fed off Malfoy's blood. I could feel this magic rise from the ground beneath us – ground that Malfoy's blood had soaked. At first it felt like I was being choked from the inside. I simply couldn't breathe. Then the darkness of the magic – _damn Malfoy, he's used Dark Magic and I knew he would I knew it_ – swallowed us.

I felt this magic creeping up over me, engulfing and drowning me whole. I fought it but it was like the visions of fifth year – unstoppable and insidious. I could feel it slipping through the chinks in my soul.

So with all the strength I had left I tore my hand free from Malfoy's and scrambled blindly away until I fetched up against a tree.

My vision returned all at once and I cried out.

The darkness had not followed me.


	7. Part VI

_And you should, if you please, refuse_

_Till the conversion of the Jews;_

_---_

'I sat there, leaning against the tree and gasping. Slowly, the darkness faded thaa had swallowed Malfoy dimmed until only the twilight of the forest reigned. It was a natural darkness.

I looked up. The moon was gone. Morning was coming.

Malfoy lay panting on the ground. He was alive, and he looked no different. His hair still shone silver in the faint light of the coming morning.

I sat watching him for a moment, then forced myself to move. It was hard, and my joints seemed to stiffen underneath me and resist movement. I didn't want to go back towards that darkness. But I forced myself to move.

I stopped a few feet away from Malfoy and gripped my wand tight.

"Malfoy?" I asked softly. I waited for a moment, but he didn't respond, merely lay there panting.

I reached out my left hand towards him. "Malfoy?"

Then he was looking at me and I flinched back. He had twisted. His body had contorted and spun and then he was looking at me, crouched low to the ground. His teeth were bared.

Suddenly I saw them, and my heart jerked to a stop. Glistening in his mouth, white against his other teeth, were a pair of fangs. I froze, and began to back away.

Vampire.

Somehow Malfoy had become a vampire. I didn't know how, and I didn't care. All I knew was that he was crouched there like a hunting animal, and watching _me_.

He was perfectly still. Nothing moved, not his eyes, which were staring at me, or his mouth, which remained open in a grimace. He wasn't even breathing anymore. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I fought to stay where I was. Crouching there, silhouetted by dim light, and perfectly still, Malfoy seemed a completely wild creature.

I began to back slowly away. I remembered that running was bad. Always bad. Back slowly away, and speak calmly.

"Hey Malfoy, listen to me." It was probably the only time I would ever speak to him normally, I thought hysterically. We fought so much… "Malfoy, Malfoy, I'm leaving. You have to think. Don't…don't do whatever you're thinking. You need to be human again."

My voice began to crack, so I shut up. He was still watching me. My throat was dry, and I kept moving backwards, one never-ending step at a time.

A stick cracked beneath my shoe, and I paused. Malfoy didn't move. This was worse than the great cat that had stalked us earlier. This time, the creature was only after me, and it wasn't a creature. It was Malfoy.

Then I reached the tree line behind me and nearly fell as roots sprang up under my feet. I stumbled but caught myself.

And Malfoy moved. His grimace widened and stretched abnormally far, into a terrible smile. I clutched my wand and, suddenly reminded of it, cast a spell at Malfoy.

"_Impedimenta!_"

Then I was running.

I ran. I ran and tripped, and all the time, I could feel Malfoy making his way through the forest after me. I couldn't hear him. But I knew that he was there. He was following me - I could feel it - him and that bitter darkness.

The forest didn't end. I kept running through it, my progress slow. I slammed into trees and twisted around roots. After a while I had to stop to walk. Then I finally stumbled to a stop.

I hadn't thought about Malfoy in a long time, but only about escaping. I could still feel him behind me, but couldn't see him, no matter where I looked. I remembered that last thing he had said. He was trying to go home. I wanted to go home too, but how had Malfoy's spell to go home have turned him into a vampire? It was _mad_. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. And that something was about to kill me.

I fell to my knees. Stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Malfoy stroll from the forest behind me. He looked perfectly calm.

Darkness curled close around him like Mrs Figg's cats. I felt a sudden surge of sadness at my impending death, and all that I had left behind me and never done. There had been so much. And I knew that he would kill me. He was grinning.

They were beautiful, those teeth. They were long and curved, and unlike the pictures in books. I stared at them. Then I looked at Malfoy's eyes. Though his mouth was smiling, his eyes were not. They seemed completely emotionless. I shuddered inside.

"Finally," he purred. I flinched at the sudden sound, then hated him. That bastard had to laugh about everything. If I wasn't so exhausted, if I could move, I would hit him right now. As it was, I could barely keep my eyes open. I could kill him.

"You shouldn't have run. But, I suppose that it will be easier for you." Malfoy smiled broader, inhumanely. If I hadn't been looking at him, I would have said that nothing had changed. He sounded so normal. I pushed against the ground. After the short pause, I could move again.

His eyes watched me, and narrowed.

Then I felt him against me. He had pushed me to the ground and straddled me. I hadn't even seen him move. I gasped and struggled, pushing against him, but he was like steel.

He lifted a hand and ever-so-slowly brought it to my face. I batted at it, but that had no effect. I pushed against the ground, but couldn't get away. His hands grasped my jaw, chill and hard.

"Aaaahhh!" I cried out at the pain as his fingers closed tight. Any word I might have called out was muffled by his crushing grip. My struggles grew weaker and weaker as he bore down, pushing me flat on the ground. I could have killed him then.

Then, faster then I could see, his lips were at my neck, and he bit down. Pain scissored though me, and all I could feel were those cold lips. I spasmed with something horrible between fear and joy, and his darkness wrapped around me.


	8. Part VII

_My vegetable love should grow_

_Vaster than empires and more slow;_

_---_

"I could feel him in me. His fangs were like hot steel bores driven straight through me. I shuddered and writhed. I had to get away. Away.

And the darkness was back, climbing into me through my eyes and seeking at my soul. I tried to twist away, but couldn't move. I felt the darkness sinking into me. It clouded my vision until I was blind.

I couldn't get away. In despair, I ceased fighting.

Then he was gone, and the darkness faded. I lay there for a moment, feeling the darkness still within me.

I thought of Hogwarts, and my friends. I thought of flying almost above the clouds. And I thought about hating darkness, and deception, and all the things that made Malfoy up. But the darkness still clung.

The distant and dim sunlight finally rose and lit the thick leaves. Each leaf that hung above me was rimmed in gold. I rolled my to the side and looked for Malfoy. He was gone. I gasped in relief at the thought. He couldn't stand the sunlight. That was what had driven him away. The books had been true.

But why could I feel Malfoy nearby, and why had this darkness not left me?

I had no answers. Slowly, I rolled to my side and pushed myself up. I felt so tired, after all that had happened. And though Malfoy was gone and the sun had risen, I felt uneasy. I pushed myself up, leaning against the tree for support.

The forest was green and gold in the sunlight. The grayness of the night had fled and the forest had tuned beautiful and lush. But the air was still cold, and the shadows still crowded my vision.

I stared at the ground. Small plants had been crushed and broken all over the place. There, I could see where he had held me down and bitten me, and given me this darkness.

I couldn't stay here.

It was only after the first few moments that I noticed I was running much faster than I had before. _Much_ faster. The trees around me blurred slightly with my speed. The world seemed to lurch around me.

My heart raced in my chest, and I clung to the feeling. Malfoy had infected me. He'd done something to me. I could feel him, in the darkness, like he was following me again. There was no other explanation. I whipped around, almost stumbling at the speed.

There was no one behind me. Nothing at all, actually. I listened, and realized that I could hear everything around me – the barest rustle of leaves, the beat of bird wings high above. Oh, I was _hearing_ all this. It wasn't natural – not that I could move so fast, not that I could hear so much.

There were too many shadows around me, surrounding me, closing in. I needed sunlight. Malfoy could never come to me when I was in sunlight.

So I ran. The trees flew by me, sunlight flashing briefly through them like a dying fire. Goaded, I rushed on. I needed to get into full sunlight. This half-light wasn't helping me any. I ran and ran and ran.

Eventually I began to tire, but this did not seem to affect me as much as it had before. I could be exhausted and run now, it seemed. Grief rose within me. Malfoy had taken my humanness. He had taken my _life_. I would kill him if I could. But later. Now I needed to burn this out of me. My soul ached to feel that burn of sunlight.

I could imagine it, as my mind wandered and I ran. The sun would finally hit me as I stepped into a golden clearing. It would be stunning and cleansing. I wouldn't given in to this darkness that Malfoy had wrapped around me, within me. Malfoy and his darkness. When it was finished, I would be whole again.

I kept running, but I was running too fast. I found myself at the edge of a great cliff when I broke the tree line. And below it and far beyond it lay the sea. I couldn't stop. I was moving too fast, too far. I just kept running, and felt the sunlight's burn, and threw myself over the edge and down into the deep and cleansing water.

_

* * *

NOTE: So that's the end of the first part. There are three in total. If you all could PLEASE do me a huge favor and review. I need you to tell me if the plot has been coherent so far. I mean, to me it is, but that 'cause I came up with it. I need to know if the story is working. Thanks._


	9. Part VIII

_An hundred years should go to praise_

_Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;_

_---_

The dark haired man pulled his pen from the page and slid it aside. It had taken him days to recall even this much of his own story. He was hesitant to continue.

The time was rapidly approaching for him to act, and he would have to finish his story before then. He did not know if he wanted to push forward. For the first time in almost forever, something within him was telling him to pull back.

He could not, though. He picked up a quill and fresh piece of parchment, and began to write once more.

"When the water hit me I was almost knocked out. Suddenly my heart turned from joyful ecstasy as I fell to dull numbness. The water was cold, and hard, and deep. I had no idea how far I had fallen, but I was shocked by it.

What had I been thinking, to jump off that cliff? I had simply done it. The momentary joy of _finally_ seeing the sun, coupled with the despair of recognizing nothing.

I realized that I had expected to see Hogwarts when I finally saw the sun. But I not seen the school. I had seen nothing but blue skies and dark water and that long fall.

Such a terrible moment, and I had simply done it. Thrown myself from the cliff. I choked on the bitter seawater and twisted futilely in an effort to get away from it.

My back stiffened and my hands froze. I felt the intense chill of the water working itself through my skin and into by brain. I was dying.

Then suddenly the water tossed me - though I did not feel it - to the surface. The sun was bright and dark at the same time, shattering my coldness and burning me. I caught a quick glimpse of the cliff, far away. I drifted.

Everything was so far away and I relaxed. The sun was bright above me, and it faded from my vision. I sunk into the water, feeling it tug at my clothes and arms, as if saying, 'come along'.

I mourned. I wanted to go home.

But home was so for away, and right now, the water felt very safe. I let go and fell unconscious in its patterns and swirls.


	10. Part IX

_Two hundred to adore each breast,_

_But thirty thousand to the rest;_

_---_

"Of course, I didn't die in the water. No sea could kill me then, not with the vampiric _gifts_ Draco had given me. The sunlight couldn't burn those traits from me, either. No, by then, it was too late.

I didn't know what he had done to me, but it had effected me greatly. As I floated in the water, barely conscious of the world around me. I realized that though I was not breathing, I was not dead.

I run had run beyond human speed to escape, and heard things that no human could hear during that escape. I found myself frightened of myself. Was I a monster now? Would I begin to crave blood?

I floated for a very long time in the cold water. After hat seemed an eternity, I brushed up against some rocks, and then the shore, ad realized that I had not fallen into the sea at all, but merely a large lake. The thought gave me enough strength to move and pull myself onto solid ground.

Perhaps I had fallen into the Black Lake. I would look up and see the school rising high above me and know that I was safe. Ron and Hermione, the Headmaster, all the teachers, they could help me figure out what Malfoy had done and fix me. I felt a dizzying rush of hope.

When I looked up, the school was not there.

There was nothing around me, anywhere, but rolling hills and a single cottage with smoke rising from it.

I sat for a time, then moved. The cottage was the only place that I could go. There was nowhere else, not with Malfoy behind me and a world I didn't recognize everywhere else.

The cottage contained a rough man who, after tense moments in which we discovered that we spoke different languages, offered me food and a place to rest. Malfoy came that night and killed him – I barely escaped by running once more.

And so my new life continued. I ran from Malfoy wherever I went, and he hunted behind me, killing like some inhuman monster. After many years of this chase, I stopped seeking human companionship altogether. I wasn't aging or dying. And I did not need to eat or drink – I did not crave blood like Malfoy did either.

I became adept at sensing when Malfoy was nearby and when he was coming for me. It was like my connection to Voldemort had been – and I hated Malfoy for it. Everyday I forgot more and more about Hogwarts and my friends. I hated Malfoy for this was well.

Though I wandered until there was not a single stretch of land I had not seen, I never found Hogwarts. I found no cities, I found no towns, and the few people I found were desperately primitive.

As years and years passed, I began to lose track of the passing of time. Eventually I boarded a boat and sailed for far away lands, feeling the distance between Malfoy and I grow with every moment.

I smiled at the sensation, and mourned the fact that not a single beauty in the world could rouse me to happiness anymore.

I had lost happiness with my past, and gained only coldness and hate.


	11. Part X

_An age at least to every part,_

_And the last age to show your heart._

_---_

"I traveled so far that eventually I left Europe altogether. I saw many people and cultures, but nothing could ever make me forget Malfoy.

Eventually, after many years, I knew that I had to return. I couldn't keep running. I needed to confront Malfoy and find out exactly what had happened to him – what had happened to us.

For so long I had simply run – I had immersed myself in countless foreign cultures and in the simple pleasure of moving, and never stopping. I had not considered this. I had been running for centuries. I had made all of the brave acts that I had done when I was young a lie. I had been a coward now for most of my life.

And yet.

My thoughts were calm. I had come to a resolution to find Malfoy and confront my past. And for the moment, I was at peace with that.

I didn't know where to find him, but I had time to look. I wasn't worried. I had found a kind of calmness over the years - an acceptance of my fate that was anything but. I cherished that quiet now, holding it within myself against my emotion, which raged at the prospect of returning to Malfoy and realms that I knew again.

The ship itself rocked less than what I was feeling.

I had always wondered what Malfoy had done for all those years that we were separated, besides following me.

When I arrived Europe was still in infancy. Well, practically. They all had their war machines, and their telescopes, and were looking beyond themselves. But they were still trying to recall their own pasts.

I began to search for Malfoy.

It had been some time, as I mentioned, so by then I was able to place a type of tracking spell on him. It led me far across Europe, to one of the deepest forests that I had ever been in. And in the deepest, darkest center, there I found Malfoy.

He lived in a castle, very old and falling down. Moss covered some of its outer parts, but it seemed solidly built in the center, so I supposed that that was where Malfoy would be. I looked at the castle, dully wondering if, perhaps, Malfoy himself had built the castle far in the past. It evoked a deep sadness within me to see it.

It was cropping building, grim and old. It did not seem the type of place for Malfoy to live, not even if the building had once been grand. I raised my wand and whisper the words of the tracking spell I had placed on him.

It was a tenuous spell, relying on the connection that had sprung up between us when he had drunk my blood. But the spell had led to me to this building, and it hadn't changed its opinion. My wand pointed steadily to the crumbling castle.

I did still blame him for what had happened to me. My state. My eternal life. I was not human, but neither was I a vampire. Perhaps the shadows that picked at my brain were the answer. Or madness.

But I would confront him, and see what had become of him, and I would try to move past it all. Because we had been thrown into the past. The future was still something to look forward to.

_

* * *

AN: Happy Christmas, all! Enjoy the holidays. The chapters should start to get longer soon, as the plot picks up again._


	12. Part XI

_For, lady, you deserve this state,_

_Nor would I love at lower rate._

_---_

"After searching among the ruins of the castle I found a small entrance, and crawled through. I had a hard time finding natural way in, and had to resort to shifting some of the enormous blocks that had tumbled down.

I hated to do it. My reason for the hate was the idea that shifting a single block could bring down the entire castle. But really I hated moving the blocks because I could do it myself – without magic. The blocks were huge and served as simply another reminder of how unnatural I was.

But once I entered the part of the castle that remained roughly standing, buried in the center Malfoy was not hard to find. He was the only one left, lying in the most intact room. He was lying on a sad wooden bed.

The bed was small and the fabrics on it appeared to have once been rich. I conjured a light with my wand. The room was crowded – almost overgrown – with cobwebs. The heavy wood of the bed was worn and gray. The fabrics of the single bed were thin and faded.

In the pitifully dim light, it seemed that Draco glowed.

He was lying still on the bed, and hadn't moved when I had conjured my light. I gazed at him for a moment. He seemed so small, and so alone here. Everything was so quiet - nothing of the nature that surrounded us could be heard.

He looked like a child again, like the child he had never really been. His face was slack and pretty, worn by years and years of survival. I could still feel his presence in my heart, but seeing him directly in front of me soothed that somewhat. I hate him for what had done – always – but I also felt pity for him now.

I watched more closely settling on my heels near the wall. He lay without breathing, and looked quite dead. It was the middle of the day, but I frowned. Even for the middle of the day, and with Draco being a vampire, he looked unnaturally dead.

I had come across a few other vampires over the years, and though I avoided them as a rule, learned a few things. When hibernating during the day, vampires were generally still, but not dead-looking. They seemed to me as if they were on the verge of waking up, in the moment between sleep and awakening.

And indeed they would awaken quickly if threatened. I had learned that quickly when killing a vampire in the east. And despite his rage and fear, it had taken only a part of my strength to subdue him and drive the stake through his heart.

I stood smoothly and walked over, brushing cobwebs away. Draco would likely wake if I touched him. Did I want that? I could kill him now. No, I needed to know more.

I laid my hand on Draco's shoulder. It was freezing cold. As I looked closer at him I could see that he was not so well-preserved as I had thought. The thin skin around his eyes was sunken and dark, and his hair was thin and crisp looking. He looked so frail.

I gently shook his shoulder. "Draco." When that didn't work I drew a small knife from my belt, crouched to make myself a smaller target, and pricked the back of his hand. He didn't even twitch.

It didn't seem as if he was going to wake, not even with the coming of dawn. I stood and pursed my lips. I would have to get him blood. And it certainly wasn't ging to by mine. Draco had stolen enough of my blood.

I extinguished my wand, tucked it away, and crawled back out of the castle.

A few days later I returned with the girl. She was small but feisty, and had struggled until I had spelled her unconscious. Draco appeared the same. Just as small and frail. Just as still. Just as dead.

I carried the dark girl over and pulled my knife out. I laid her next to Draco on the bed and slit her throat. The blood poured out, and as it touched Draco he woke.

Draco's eyes opened first, and they fairly glowed for a moment. Then he moved, normally, at human speed. He pushed himself up and leaned of the girl, inhaling for a second. Then he dove down and his lips were clamped onto her throat. He didn't appear to see me at all.

She grew paler and paler. When he was finished, he dropped the girl onto the floor, curled up, and went back to sleep.

I crouched and waited, and my thoughts wandered. After what seemed to be only a few moments, Draco opened his eyes and looked at me. He did not see me at first, but looked around the room. He did not seem aware of much, and his eyes were dull.

Then his eyes lighted on me. And I mean that in the most literal way. At first Draco did not seem to see, really see, that I was crouching in front of the door to his room. I stood slowly, very slowly. I could see recognition strike him, and he looked young again. His eyes shone with amazement and wariness.

For what seemed the first time - at least for me - he was brilliantly alive.

He smiled, baring his long fangs inadvertently, and stood. He came towards me and I managed to hold myself still. I did not want him close to me, but I knew that I couldn't keep running away.

Suddenly he was standing directly in front of me and his warms wrapped around me in a hug. His breath at my neck was warm and closer than I had permitted another person to come for centuries. I held still.

He pulled back and stared at me. His eyebrow briefly quirked and his lips pursed. Thousands of minute shifts on his face. How amazing, after his stillness.

"How…why…are you here?"

He sounded bewildered, which made me smile a bit, and actually amused me. I felt a warmth that I hadn't felt in a long time enter me. He sounded just like a child, so petulant and confused. I let the smile fall off my face, but lifted Draco to sit on the bed.

"I felt that it was time to come back."

I forced myself to sit next to him, and tried to control my fear. After all these years I was afraid of him. I was afraid even after seeing him lie, vulnerable and nearly dead, in his castle. Perhaps, just perhaps, Draco was just as damaged as I was.

Draco sat near me for a while after that, but neither of us said much. Truthfully, nothing could be said. We had been separated for centuries, outside of our own time. We were eternally bound to each other because of it, and both equally destroyed by that bond. Finally Draco stood. He turned and looked at me. His words and face were serious, but his eyes were not.

"Let's leave this place - it's too dark."

We still had several centuries to wait until our own time came around again, that I knew. I could have run and not seen him once for those centuries. But I was tired and afraid. Not so much of Draco as of being along. He took my hand and my skin crawled.

So we left, and never returned to that crumbling castle in the dark.


	13. Part XII

_But at my back I always hear _

_Time's winged chariot hurrying near,_

_---_

"I did not care very much where we went after that. I wanted only t be somewhere with life – somewhere fresh after thousands of years of wandering. And so we went to Paris.

It was verdant, this city - in terms of life and death. There were teeming masses of people constantly filtering through it, a great sea of life for the taking.

Draco was quite satisfied by the masses of life that he could pick and choose from. He could never run out. We knew that this was the place to stay when we first arrived. Unlike the other cities we had passed through, this one was not dingy and desperate. It was filled with a sort of golden light. It appeared magical, simply by being itself.

Draco was unlike I had ever seen him – giddy. From the first night, he would go out to the streets near the houses of nobles and watch them come and go from their parties. He loved to watch the silk and organza of the women's dresses rustle, and their jewels glint on the faint light of streetlamps, and the stiffly attired men pass by looking like anything but real men.

I followed him a couple of times on his excursions. I wanted to be sure that he was not killing the King and Queen, or anything equally foolish. But he would only stand on the street corners, or in the alleys, and moon about, simply watching. Once I knew that he was not being stupid, I was glad to leave him alone. I had my own chores – things I would much rather be doing than watching Draco.

When I was away from him I could almost think of him as Malfoy again. But not quite. To me he seemed like a child. He was like the children we had been - possessive of what he believed was his, but utterly joyous about it. I could not respect him, but neither could I completely hate him.

The most immediate of my duties was acquiring money, and a place to live. Neither was particularly hard. First I went about stealing money. It would tae far to long to earn, and I knew that if I gained enough money, we could pay people not to think to hard about any suspicious disappearances that Draco caused.

After thousands of years of experience, and a great deal more magical knowledge than I had had when young, I was able to easily slip in and out of the mansions of nobles and take valuable jewelry. I would later sell in under a glamour, thus making sure that I could never be caught.

I suppose that I should have felt guilty about it. I was taking what did not belong to me. And, if someone got in my way, like a servant, I would kill them. In fact, I believed that I was killing more people than Draco at the time.

They all seemed so small and insignificant to me. I had seen great wars and many atrocities, and more death than I could ever describe. To me, a few more deaths seemed like less than a pittance. I couldn't bring myself to care about a single one.

Once I had gained enough money, I bought a flat on the Avenue Montaigne for Draco and I, along with clothes and jewels and almost anything else that Draco picked out. I suspected that he was reliving his childhood.

I thought I remembered that he had been from a rich family before we had been thrown back in time. I couldn't quite remember – just as I couldn't quite remember anything from so long ago, but by Draco's reaction when I bought him things, I suspected that I had been right.

And so, as I watched from the tiny flat that we shared, he began to grow stronger, and happier. Watching him, I was able to let go a little as well, and I found myself laughing a few times – more that I had in hundreds of years.

My nausea at his presence, or even the mere sight of him, began to fade slightly, until I could almost forget all that he had done to me and made me into. For a moment, I thought that just perhaps, there was hope for everything to turn out alright.

Draco had many desires, many of them relatively small and insignificant. I did not mind satisfying him in them. It gave me a new purpose in life. I felt as I thought a parent might feel.

Then Draco told me of a desire of his that was much more serious.

One night, Draco came home with his idea. He was set on it, as a child would feel towards a new toy.

He came into our rooms windblown and flushed. It was a muggy summer night, but clear and windy. The kind of night where you could taste the water in the air. I had been sitting in an old chair that had been new when I bought it, and reading.

Draco flung through the door open and it hit the wall with a bang. He looked purely happy. He pulled his long coat around him, and flashed me a brilliant smile. He rushed forward and fell to his knees in front of me.

When he laid his head on my knees and looked up I stiffened. I still was not used to him touching me. Wary of his enthusiasm, I asked, "What is it? Has something happened?"

"No, nothing, of course not," he said, nearly tripping over the word in his rush to get them out. He took a deep breath and then said, with pure surprise, "Harry, we can go home."

I looked at him for a moment, not sure what he meant. We were home, were we not? But I could not deceive myself for long. He meant going home to Hogwarts. To his family. We had both already proved that we would live long enough. And we hadn't physically changed. We could simply return - pretend nothing had ever happened.

Sudden rage boiled with in me, nearly taking my breath with its suddenness. I hadn't felt such emotion in years. Only Draco could provoke it now. My eyes widened and I stared at him. Oh so slowly I moved to place my books aside.

He wanted to go home, to his family. He wanted you be with other people who loved and would cherish him. He wanted to go back, and reclaim, everything that he had taken from me.

I placed the book slowly on the table. It slid with a susurrus as I struggled against the impotent rage that filled me. I couldn't throw him out or kill him. Not now, not after all I had done for the two of us. My life was stable, and I had been relatively content for a few years.

I didn't want to lose everything. So I took a deep breath and summoned a completely false smile to my face. I numbly placed my hands over his head and eyes, like a priest giving some king of perverted benediction. I didn't want to see him.

"Yes," I said softly, and to my great relief, steadily. "We can go back home."

The words sat in my stomach like the most sour of lies. But Draco was so happy and immediate with his requests for new clothes and horses and a carriage to attend parties with in the meantime, that the feeling faded away.

And so our peace lasted for a few more years.


	14. Part XIII

_And yonder all before us lie_

_Deserts of vast eternity._

_---_

"It was a bright night. The moon hung high and full over Paris and its light streamed over all the buildings and through the windows and into our flat. We barely needed candles. And it was only the chill in the air that caused me to light the fire.

We had been relatively happy for many years. Draco had grown more and more absorbed with the dongs of people in the city. He would kill, but he enjoyed spending time with the normal people more. He liked to attend their parties and flirt with the women. He lived like an ordinary noble in the city. Except he never ate what everyone else did. He ate everyone else.

I had been happy as well. Over the years I had acquired many books on magic. I had learned and read and tried to temper my revulsion and hatred of Draco with wisdom. It worked eventually. I could look t him and find peace in seeing his beauty and everlasting childishness. His seeming innocence. I could almost, in my best moments, care for him.

On this night, Draco was sitting as far from the fireplace as possible. He hated fire and refused to go near it. I believed that this was because there were no shadows for him to hide in. There, in the fire, everything was bared. In any case, he was perfectly happy on the other end of the small room.

I sat near the fire with a book spread across my lap. I was only warm where that book rested, and I wasn't even reading it.

Suddenly, Draco looked up, laughing and squinting through the light towards me. His laughed was lighthearted and musical. It startled me from my reverie. I blinked in his direction, my eyes not even seeing him in the dark. His voice floated towards me.

"Won't it be absolutely wonderful! To tell Pansy, and Vince, and Greg, and my _parents_ about all of this! I'm learning so much. I'll be able to tell stories for days."

My heart sunk. I was chilled. Draco hadn't mentioned this idea in so long. Last time he had, I had agreed with him simply to keep him quiet. But no we only had a couple hundred years left. We were getting _so _close. I could feel his joy and utter happiness.

I looked back into the fire, letting its white burn erase any sight of him from my eyes.

"Draco," I paused and tried to find the right words, then gave up. "We can't."


	15. Part XIV

_Thy beauty shall no more be found_

_Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound_

_---_

"The room was static. Even the crackling of the fire seemed to fade away and disappear.

I didn't want to go back. I had known this for years, but had never had cause to examine the feeling. I couldn't examine the feeling now. All I knew was that my stomach dropped out when Draco talked about going back to his family and friends – continuing life as if nothing had ever happened. As if this life of ours was a dream.

Then he spoke again, shattering the silence and chilling me. He tone was colder than had heard it since we were children. "It hasn't changed, has it? I thought that we had become close. But I guess that some things never change."

I was aghast. How dare Draco assume that? After all these years – after all the effort I had put into tolerating him? The ungrateful bastard. I whirled and tore my eyes from the fire, blinding searching Draco out in the dark room. The book slipped from my lap and hit the floor with a crash.

That Draco could jump to such conclusions was unimaginable for me. After the many years apart, and then the many years that we had spent together so far… That he could conjure suspicion for me so easily was madness. I had never suspected that he had harbored such feelings.

As my eyes adjusted I saw him, crouched in his chair. His mouth was twisted into a sneer and he was staring directly at me. "It's true, though. Don't looked so surprised. I knew it. You've always treated me like a child. You feel nothing but contempt for me – you've never felt anything else."

His eyes wandered as he ranted, finally settling back on me. I opened my mouth to respond, but couldn't think of a thing to say. I was so completely off-guard. I never expected this attack.

Draco turned in his chair and knotted his hands restlessly. I stood slowly, brushing the book on the floor aside.

It seemed to me as if I had touched upon one of his greatest fears - that we wouldn't be able to go back and fix everything. Was he just now realizing what I had known so many years ago? That we had been sent back through a fluke - our entire lives ruined - and there was absolutely no way to fix it.

Nothing could be made right again in this horrible and tenuous existence of ours, that I knew. Draco flinched from me as I moved towards him, but I spread my hands. I couldn't have him upset with me. I wanted to placate him – to make everything as it had been. I wanted him to go back to enjoying himself rather than have him angry with me. I needed to calm him down, even for a few moments. He hesitated, and I took the quickest path to solve the problem.

"Forgive me, Draco. I was wrong. I had not considered your own determination. I thought perhaps that you were still…young. I know now that we will be able to return with both of our skills. Truly return."

I had reached him by the time I finished speaking, so I knelt down and reached out, placing my hands on his arm. They were perfectly calm and soothing, yet he leaned away from me.

"Please, Draco. If we try, I know that together we can go back, and be happy. I do not hate you, not at all. I am merely afraid. Please?"

Finally Draco relented. He turned to look at me warily, then smiled slightly.

I opened my mouth, not sure what I would say, but he reached out and placed a finger on m lips. Startled, I fell silent. He never touched me like this, with cool fingers and a sad expression. I felt that my eyes were wide as I watched him. He pulled his arm away and stood.

I let myself settle to the floor, but watched him. Slowly, with careful steps, Draco walked over to the chair he had earlier thrown his coat over and retrieved it. Without looking at me he shook it out and left the room. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

I remained on the floor, uneasy. I knew he would be back, but also that I would have to work to regain all that I had lost with my careless comment.

Had Draco's childishness been an act? He had seemed so honestly innocent. Had he been sitting there, all these years, watching and hating me? I had tried to act normally, and kindly. But it seemed that Draco had seen past that. He had seen my revulsion for him.

But I could not simply let him go. I had run from him for years and been profoundly unhappy. All I had wanted then was for everything to go to the way it was. And that Draco sympathized with that long lost dream of mine, I wanted simply to remain as I was. What was I to do?

The fire burned low as I thought. There was no easy solution. But there were simple choices. I finally knew what would have to be done.

I had to stay with him. Draco would find a way to reclaim his old life, no matter what it took. I knew that he would. But this act would carry horrible consequences. If anyone knew what had become of us that day - that we had been turned into monsters, with Draco the only recognizable one, for I was clueless about myself - we would be considered freaks and outcasts.

I could not imagine Ron and Hermione - mere bright and painful shadows in my memory by then - staring at me in disgust and horror. To see what I had become. I stared at my hands and flexed my fingers. The fingers were unevenly tanned and rough looking - human. I looked so much more human than Draco did, with his glorious and icy pallor.

Now I know that my own monstrousness is inside. When I think back to those I have loved over the years, I feel only a calm happiness. Even when I think back to Ron and Hermione, and Dumbledore, and my parents, I can muster only slight feeling. Only Draco exerts any measureable pull on my heart.

And he conjures only hatred and disgust within.

My feelings are dead.

And I cannot bring myself to care.

By the fire that night, I decided that I could not let him go back, and ruin the life that I had managed to salvage from this mess. He would destroy everything to reclaim _his_ family, and _his_ friends.

I needed to persuade him to give up this dream – and not sever him from me in the process.


	16. Part XV

_My echoing song; then worms shall try_

_That long-preserved virginity,_

---

"Draco returned a few days later. He seemed refreshed. I had done little the past few days besides think, and solidify my decision. I would not let him return to Hogwarts.

He took off his long coat - a loose but warm thing for these winter nights - and threw it near me on the floor. And then, to my surprise, he sat down on the floor in front of me.

Draco never sat so close to the fire. It was unimaginable. And, indeed, I could see his pain in doing so. The eye closer to the fire - one that I had always found slightly more blue – had squinted mostly closed, and the other was creased as well. Despite this, he seemed perfectly at ease, and he sat as if in his own rooms.

I sat back and stared at him. His face was calm, and he smiled slightly. I smiled easily back, trying my hardest to make the smile light and natural, and help keep him at ease in my presence. He had to really listen when I tried to persuade him.

He stared at me a moment, perhaps repelled by my ease in the light. Then he opened his mouth, and his voice, when it came out, was rough and scratchy. Had he been drinking? I didn't know that he could drink liquor, but he sounded absolutely horrible. His tone was light.

"Harry, I don't want you to think that I'm a fool." He smiled again as he said it, and I was chilled.

I jerked my chin up. "I _don't_ think that you're a fool. Whatever would give you that idea?"

He sighed. "We've been together for so many years. Do you think that I haven't noticed? I see how you hesitate before you touch me, before you smile, before you even notice me. Nothing comes easily to you concerning me. And," he held up a hand to silence my open mouth, "I understand. You hate me."

I sank back in the chair, calculating. I couldn't allow him to think this way. He would destroy everything.

"I have tried to ignore it. I have tried to pretend that everything was fine. But it isn't, and now we need to work this out."

"What do we need to work out? I don't understand." I was cautious. I didn't wish to provoke him, and I didn't have a strong enough grasp of the situation yet.

"Your hatred and anger and disgust for me. It's immature and horrible. I moved past such feelings a long time ago. When you jumped off the cliff, in fact."

I jolted, surprised by the distant memory. He smiled and stood.

"I wasn't thinking straight at the time, and it was daytime, but I remember you jumping. I remember you falling and hitting the cold water. Isn't that funny. I must have been asleep – it was daytime – but I remember it." He frowned and I held myself still. _Was he remembering my memories?_

"I thought you were dead, Harry. I really did. And I knew that if you were dead I would have destroyed any remnant of my life. You were the only thing left that remembered Hogwarts with me – even if we didn't get along."

He sat in another chair by the fire and looked into it. He wasn't squinting anymore.

"Though we had hated each other before, I couldn't hate you then." His brow furrowed and he frowned. "But you could hate _me_. I never understood how."

I pursed my lips, anger boiling within me, and spoke. "I don't hate you, Draco. I never did. Can't you imagine, simply think for a _moment_, that I could have changed? It has been thousands of years, and you expect me to simply have remained the same?" I was hissing with contempt and frustration.

He leapt back to his feet. "I know the difference between a person changing and a person who hates me!"

He stalked back to where he had thrown his coat and snatched it up.

"I don't want to leave. This is all I have left. And I have tried so hard to make this life nice." He took a deep breath and scoured the flat with his eyes. I remained glued to my seat, clutching the arms of my chair in furious emotion. "But if I remain with you, I will never, _never_, be happy."

He turned to leave and I made my last plea. "You can't go back to that life, Draco. You aren't the same. How could you possibly live that way - a lie?"

"They are my family, Harry. That has never changed."

What he had said was like a blow to me. He had family to return to. I did not. I had friends, and a school. I was completely pathetic. I had no lasting loves, or passions. There was absolutely nothing forever in my soul - like family.

I sat in silence, and stared at him. He was the only thing eternal about me. Draco shrugged his coat on, and slowly made his way out the door. It swung open, scant inches from closing.

I was frozen in shock and pain. I had never expected him to leave me. And now that he was on his own, without me, he would follow his mad plan. He would follow that horrible plan to return to what was already lost.

I wanted to run after him again, but knew that it would be foolish. I would not find him. Not now, not yet. He had determined to leave and I knew him well enough to know that tracing him now would be futile.

But eventually I would find him. I would give him time and then I would go back. I would practice loving – or pretending to love – so that when I found him once more I could completely beguile him. He would find no hesitation in me.

And then I would never let him go, no matter what it was that he believed in.


	17. Part XVI

_And your quaint honor turn to dust,_

_And into ashes all my lust:_

_---_

"I waited. I waited for year. I bought myself new books, met new people, and attended the parties that I had previously avoided. Then, as the world began to speed up, and the Muggles to invent, I began my search.

It took me a long time to find him. I found him in Berlin in the end. He was enjoying the newfound wealth of his home, and indulging himself in every party and drop of blood that passed him by.

I watched him for a time, in his new home. He seemed happy and carefree – almost as he had been in Paris. I knew that I needed to confront him. I needed to meet Draco once more and prevent him from grasping at a life that was no longer his.

One chilly morning before dawn I went. I left my own meager lodgings and walked down the streets to Draco's small house. As I walked I picked up a newspaper to distract myself, and started at the date. There were almost exactly 100 years left until 1995. So little time left. I felt my own heart speed up at the realization. I only had 100 years, or less, left of this life.

And this unnatural life was the only one that I had. I didn't want to let it go.

When I reached Draco's house I saw that he had hosted a party the night before. I stood outside his door – unlocked – and peered in. Noblemen, merchants, and all kinds of richly dressed people were lying over his couches and on his terrace. Candles, burned down low in the fittings, flickered – only half of them remained lit.

Draco was lying across a couch next to another man, engaged in quiet conversation. Despite the early hour and the proximity of the dawn – barely an hour until its arrival - Draco quickly grew passionate, hands gesturing, laughing, and generally seeming vibrantly human.

I felt resentful that he could so easily find happiness and companionship with a stranger. And one not even like him. This was a mere human. The man would die. Slowly, over years. He wouldn't live forever, like Draco, or drink blood like Draco.

And yet.

I stood by the door quietly, and leaned against the wall. I could not look into the room anymore. I wanted to go in, but I did not want to confront the humans that Draco had invited inside. I determined to wait here until dawn broke, and Draco slept with the day.

There was a movement in of the corner of my eye and I flinched, turning and seizing the wand I kept in my pocket. I cursed myself for the suspicious move, then saw that it was Draco watching me. He stared at me, face still. He stepped around the corner and out of the room. He stared for a moment more, and I stared back. I had not planned on confronting him, not this soon. My mind raced, trying to think of excuses where there were none.

Before I could think properly he pulled me into a hug. "Oh, Harry."

I pulled away but stayed watching him, wary. He was too cheerful. We had parted so suddenly, and with such unsolvable differences between us, I despaired of getting him to even listen to me once more.

But here he was, speaking as if nothing had ever come between us.

"I am glad that you've found me. I have something to show you." He reached into his coat, and after a moment of grasping pulled out his wand. I stared it, surprised into silence. I had not even realized that he still had it, I saw it so rarely.

"I know that you think that I am foolish to want to go back home – to Hogwarts," he continued, his voice dropping low. "I want you to see that I know what I'm doing. Watch."

Draco pulled back from me now, and waved his wand it over his face. With the gesture his skin became darker, more flushed - the same color that it had been before centuries in darkness turned it bone white. He grinned at me, then pouted and sneered, drawing away.

He was mad after all. I despaired inside. I had been right about him. This desire of his was mad, and he had gone mad in his attempt to live it. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. I did not want to think of what I would have to do to stop him now. I should had stopped him earlier.

Draco laughed and broke out of his pose. "Don't you say a word - it's perfect. I know."

I reached forward and placed my hand on his check. His skin was warm, not cool as I had always felt it. He seemed completely human. He _was_ human.

I turned away to hide my own feelings. Draco had found a way to reclaim everything. _Everything._ While I remained stuck here, caged with my own indifference to life, to friends, to everything. No glamour could give hat back to me.

I slumped against the wall and Draco came over and leaned facing me. He reached out and placed his cool palm on my cheek, his illusion fallen. I wanted him gone. I wanted to be gone. I didn't want him to touch me.

He stepped closer and whispered in my ear, "Don't." Then, there in the open in front of anyone who cared to look, kissed me.

_

* * *

AN: We're getting there. Something like 10 parts left, and they shouldn't need quite as much editing. I've been doing a lot of rewriting, but I hold out hope for the next chapters. Also, I'm participating in the Snarry-A-Thon right now. It's taking up a lot of time, so I'm giving fair warning. It should take longer to upload and finish things for the next month or so. I may have more delays after that, but I'll let you know. Enjoy!_


	18. Part XVII

_The grave's a fine and private place,_

_But none, I think, there do embrace._

_---_

"Draco's kiss was soft and his lips were cool. They shocked, as always. His lips pressed against mine with urgency. Though I wanted to pull back – I always wanted to pull back from his kisses at first, I realized I could fall into his kiss. So I relaxed, and let the subtle heat of Draco's mouth arouse me.

Then I remembered why he was kissing me, and pulled back. Draco had kissed me many times since that first kiss in the doorway of his house in Berlin. And he did it to distract me. I had never grown used to his kisses.

And today, I knew it though he hadn't told me, Draco was planning to leave me, and go back to Hogwarts and his family. The time had finally come. He had begun discreetly buying the Wizarding newspapers, and always left them lying about the house. I read them during the day, when he couldn't see me.

It had been three weeks since we had disappeared. Already the searchers were beginning to give up hope. They had blamed Draco for our disappearance, and I was in no hurry to correct them. I did not want to return – my mind had not changed.

Draco still yearned to.

I looked at Draco in his sleek Muggle suit. He had been watching his family recently, sneaking away to look at tem and hoping that I didn't notice. He turned away from me and began gathering his things. Lately, he had simply refused to talk to me about his return. He didn't want to argue, I believed, and he knew that I would never agree with him.

I sighed, watching him gather cloak and wand. "Please, don't do this Draco." I knew what I would have to do to stop him, and I didn't want to. If only I could persuade him from that course.

He stood straight, and after a pause turned to me. "You can't stop me anymore. I can leave you, even with your magic following me. You won't be able to stop me."

Oh, he thought that was all. He thought that the sum of my plan relied on following him, but it was much worse. He had no idea what my desperate mind had conjured.

I simply looked at him, knowing that any movement on my part would send him flying away from me. But it turned out that I didn't need to move at all. In an instant he was gone. And I haven't seen him since.

_

* * *

AN: Bit of a leap in time here. I tried to make in obvious, but if it was confusing, let me know and I'll try to fix it. _


	19. Part XVIII

_Now, therefore, while the youthful hue_

_Sits on thy skin like morning dew,_

_---_

"And that's it. That is the end of our story - of how Draco and I disappeared, and lived, and changed. It is 1996 again, and we could go back to living our original lives as Draco intends. But I still think that he is being naive and foolish. I won't allow him to go back reclaim everything.

He is going to ruin everything. And I won't let him. I will stop him, no matter what it takes. But that is not my story to tell. It hasn't happened yet.

I am here to write our story, to tell what happened. I want those who once loved us to know how all of this came to be. I don't want anyone to spin grand stories of romance and adventure to explain how we ended as we will, soon. I want everyone to know the truth. And this is it, all of it."

Harry laid his quill down. The pile of papers beside his was tall, and he quietly slipped the last one on top. He covered his eyes with his hands and sat for a moment.

The he stood, pushing back his chair with a sudden screech. He gathered up paper and twine, and began to wrap the pile of papers. When he was finished he picked up the package and left the room.

In the hallway, he apparated away with a sharp crack.

He arrived in Diagon Alley and rushed hurriedly to the post office. He handed the package to the clerk behind the counter – who, though Harry was wearing no glamours, did not look at him twice. Chilled by the fact that he was unrecognizable to the world he had once loved, Harry paid the man and arranged for a delayed delivery to Hogwarts.

He wanted them all to know, but not quite yet. A week would do. He left the shop.

_

* * *

AN: Second part finished. One third left, from differing perspectives. _


	20. Part XIX

_And while thy willing soul transpires_

_At every pore with instant fires,_

_---_

Draco gathered his newly transfigured cloak around him as he walked up the drive. It was thick and warm - wonderful for these winter months. He wasn't sure how long it had been since Harry and he had been flung back in time. For years he had called the moment when they had been sucked into that painting the 'Incident'. Yet he had forgotten everything about that day. It could have been midsummer. He was returning to his family in midwinter.

Ah well, one couldn't control everything.

But no, that wasn't right. They had been together, and that only happened in school, and school was certainly not during midsummer.

Ah, well. He figured that picking up a paper once he was at home would suit. The disappearance must have been noted. A fierce excitement bubbled up within Draco. He took a deep breath of the icy air and grinned. He walked faster. It was time. Everything was going to happen now. He would get his family back.

Draco felt a momentary guilt about leaving Harry - after all, he had no one else. But Harry had functioned on his own for a very long time. If he was determined to pass his own life by, then he could do that. Draco would do _just fine_ on his own.

Draco stopped at the massive front gates and simply looked. The Manor was pale as it loomed above Draco. White peacocks swanned over the lawn, crowing softly to each other and casting Draco only one considering glance before they recognized him. Being home made him so happy.

Then, as he walked up the glimmering path to the front entrance, the door opened. And he could see his mother, hair shining, standing in the doorway.

His mother flew down the steps as she saw him approach. Draco had hoped that she would welcome him immediately, but wasn't a fool. As she flew down the steps, and he grew loser, her wand swept to the side, and Draco felt a spell flash over him.

As the spell passed over me, he felt his glamour crumble. But he continued walking. Draco cursed in his head and quickly reassembled the illusion, shoring it up to be unbreakable. He had forgotten the strength that spells could hold, especially when powered by strong emotion.

As he continued forward without pause, she froze, and then fell to her knees. Draco rushed forward and enveloped her in his arms as she began to cry against him.

"Oh, Draco, Draco", she moaned as she cried. She felt so frail against him. With every breath she took he could feel the brittleness of her bones. He could crush her so easily. He merely clutched her closer.

They sat there for a time, and then Draco felt another presence. He looked and saw that his father had walked out of the grand house above them. He stared down at Draco for a moment, and then moved slightly aside, eyes never leaving Draco's face. Past him, from the utter darkness of the doorway came the Dark Lord - materializing as if by magic.

Draco simply looked at the man - or monster - for less than a moment. He detached himself from his mother, who turned after him, smothering a gasp when she saw Voldemort. But Draco stayed calm. He walked forward, and hating himself every moment, bowed to the Dark Lord. He hate having to bow to this creature - this being who hoped to live as long as Draco had, but had no conception of what that meant.

To Draco, Voldemort was worth nothing but contempt. He planed to use the Dark Lord in any way possible to achieve a seamless return to his family and acceptance into society. This was the only way.

So he simply looked up and gave the Dark Lord a small smile.

Inside they walked. The Dark Lord led the way, with Draco following and his parents coming last. Draco was disturbed by the changes in his parents.

Back in his memories, Draco's parents had been strong. They loved him greatly, and always did their best for him. But now they seemed small. They followed the Dark Lord without seeming to think about it. Their eyes were dull, and though they were as beautiful as ever, there was something missing. Something essential.

Their spirits had nearly been broken, Draco mused. Both by his 'death' and the obvious escalation of the war. They had taken a terrible toll on the family that Draco loved. He felt a slow rage growing within him, building upon his contempt. This thing that considered itself all-powerful, this pitiful Dark Lord, would not survive.

Draco would use him - use Voldemort - to achieve his goals. And he would have to, wouldn't he? His parents had assured his connection to the Dark Lord with their past choices. But Draco would destroy him in the end. After all, if it had not been for Voldemort, he would not have been fretting, wandering the hallways. He would not have been thrown into the past. His parents would be strong - his family whole.

It was all the Dark Lord's fault, really, and he would suffer for it.

Once he reached the main hall he paused. There were others in the house besides them - he could feel them moving around. Voldemort stopped only a few feet beyond him. His parents approached, glancing nervously at the Dark Lord a few feet away from them.

"Draco, what happened?" his mother whispered, seizing the moment. The Dark Lord stood there, watching him with uncanny eyes. They were all waiting for his answer. Draco turned away from all their eyes. He could see no way of getting around it – and he could the information to his advantage.

"I am, now, a vampire." The room behind him froze - as he did inside. He had not spoken the fact aloud to anyone. Harry had simply…known. There was no one else. "I could not return for a time because I could not control myself. But now I can serve you, my Lord." He nodded in Voldermort's direction, clinging to the hastily fashioned story. He really should have thought more about this. But e had been so excited.

Harry had been right. He couldn't hide it. He turned to look at his parents. They were staring at him in frozen horror. The Dark Lord's face was mildly interested. Draco bowed his head. He had brought this on himself.

So he dropped his glamour.


	21. Part XX

_Now let us sport us while we may,_

_And now, like am'rous birds of prey,_

---

Harry waited for almost a day before moving forward with his plan. Draco would not win this.

He went to Hogwarts. It was early in the morning and the sun had risen only a short time ago. He knew it was enough to stop Draco from coming after him. No one was moving in the halls. He would have heard them. And frankly, he was glad to avoid them. He wasn't sure if he could see his old friends and still maintain his purpose.

He wanted his life back desperately - but he knew that he could never have it. Never.

Harry simply brushed past the gargoyle when he reached it, and was at the door of the Headmaster's office in a few more seconds. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Harry walked in to be confronted by Albus Dumbledore, staring at him in shock.

It was almost worth it, in that moment, just to see the look on Dumbledore's face. But Harry had a story to weave, so he pushed his own pleasure aside. He smiled a very relieved smile and moved quickly into the office. "Headmaster."

He paused tentatively before the Headmaster's desk, but the man had stood and made his way around to the other side, and engulfed Harry in a huge hug.

Harry was sinking into Dumbledore's hug when the older man stepped back. It had been a very long time since he had been embraced so. Dumbledore stared at him for a long moment. "Harry. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am, Professor" He exhaled noisily and flung himself down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Dumbledore settled back into his desk chair but leaned forward, white beard streaming over his desk and eyes grave. "I know you want to know where I've been, but I'm really not sure." Harry began. He exhaled noisily and leaned forward, interlacing his hands. The Headmaster ha to believe that he was still a young boy. He had decided to go with something close to the truth - or very far from it, depending on your point of view.

"What happened, Harry? I has been almost a month since your disappearance." The Headmaster seemed to be barely containing his desperation to know. He paused, as if wondering whether or not to take up a delicate subject. "And Mr. Malfoy's disappearance."

"We were suddenly in a forest. There was a painting of a…a forest...but I don't know what happened. I mean, we were looking at the painting, then it was like we were in the painting. That's not normal, is it, professor?"

"Not at all, my dear boy," the Headmaster responded, relaxing into the conversation a bit. Harry was glad to see that he being taken in by Harry's attitude. "Where was this painting, Harry?"

"In the castle sir, but I don't know where. I was following Malfoy, and then there was the painting, and then we were in the painting."

"Hmmm." The Heaadmaster frowned slightly and tugged at his beard.

"Well, after that we had a row, and Malfoy stalked off, and I didn't see him for a while." Harry paused but decided that diving in was the only way to go. "He came back later though. I don't know, I mean, I found some people who fed me at the edge of the forest. And let me live there and all." Harry cursed inwardly. He was messing the entire tale up - but he supposed that that was natural for him. Dumbledore certainly seemed to believe him and was listening intently.

"I wanted to get back here, but the people I met were Muggles, so I couldn't ask them, and I couldn't actually apparate because I had no idea were I was. Well, I figured it out eventually, and I'm fine, but that's not the problem." Harry managed to all of this with nearly one breath, then looked coyly at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what was wrong. "Harry, what happened to Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry looked at him silently for a moment. "He found me last night. I hadn't seen him since... Well, he showed up at the front door of the house I was staying at. He'd changed." Harry paused, then rushed ahead, forcing the next words out as if they were painful. "He's a vampire, Headmaster. I don't know what happened, but he's a vampire. He tried to kill me," Harry said as he rubbed his neck subconsciously. "I figured out how to Apparate pretty quick, then. I got to Hogsmeade."

"Professor, he's after me, and he's completely mad. He came after me, yelling about me being a vampire too and something about his family. Professor, I think that he killed them." Harry huddled up in his seat. Dumbledore believed him, he could feel it.

"Oh, Harry. You always have to bear so much." Dumbledore sighed and looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him before. "I assume, from your urgency, that you believe that Draco is following you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Professor. He's going to come after me. And probably everyone that I know, too. We need to stop him, but he's so fast. He's…he's…I don't know what to do." He looked up, pleadingly, at the older man

"Don't worry, Harry. This burden is not yours to bear." Dumbledore looked grim, so Harry smiled faintly up at him. "Stay here for the moment. I will fetch Professor McGonagall and we'll see about getting you reinstalled in the Tower." All of his joviality returned quickly. "You deserve your rest."

Harry nodded gratefully at the professor as Dumbledore left the room. Pleasure seethed within. The Headmaster believed him. Draco would find no sanctuary here. He kept his face tightly controlled and tried to figure out what to tell his friends.


	22. Part XXI

_Rather at once our time devour,_

_That languish in his slow-chapped power._

_---_

Harry didn't know what to feel. After thousands of years spent only with Draco for company - only Draco who knew his secrets - now he was forced directly back into the life that had had moved on from. It had been so long. He wasn't used to friends who poked and prodded at old wounds and simply _needed_ to know about everything, especially if it wasn't their business.

Harry sighed to himself and tried to be patient. Hermione was smiling at him from a chair across from him, and Ron stared uncannily from next to him on the couch. "I can't tell you any more than that. That's the whole story." He shrugged. "Sorry."

He had given them the same story as he had given Dumbledore, with some details made up to satifiy them, but they seemed anything but.

"That can't--"

"Yeah, mate, there's gotta--"

Ron and Hermione ran over themselves in their eagerness to speak. They stopped suddenly and blushed. _Oh_, Harry nearly rolled his eyes at their youth. He made a show of glancing at the clock of the wall and stood up hurriedly.

"I've got to go. Dumbledore wanted to see me again five minutes ago."

"No, Harry!" Hermione cried, disappointment written clearly on her face. Harry just shrugged and ran out the door and into the halls. Finally. Now he could hunt the professors down and help them catch and stop Draco. Because he knew that Draco would be coming, and soon. He didn't trust Draco to remain predictable for long, if at all. He needed to be there.

Harry had to force himself to ignore the splendor of the castle as he walked through it. He had seen grander things, he quietly reminded himself. The fact that he couldn't remember any of them at the moment meant nothing.

Finally, finally he reached the Great Hall. The candles shone brightly. It was coming on night. Draco would be coming soon. Harry didn't know how he knew that it was night - he just did. He had developed a kind of sense for these things over the years. Especially with Draco.

He paused, then burst into the Great Hall, interrupting the conversation that Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were absorbed in. He didn't care. "Headmaster, please, let me help."

They stared at him, startled by his entry.

"I've been in the Common Room all day. I can't sit there any longer." Harry made a show of standing straighter. "I want to stop him. Malfoy's a monster. I have to do _something_."

"Harry," Dumbledore began, while Snape looked so aggravated that he could have killed Harry right there. "I think that it's best if you stay in Gryffindor. If Mr. Malfoy is after you, we don't want to give him what he is looking for."

"But Headmaster," Harry stepped towards the older man and then whirled around. _Fuck_. Draco was standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, looking pathetically lost and stunned.

It was too soon. Draco shouldn't have come so soon, _fuck it all_. It was barely night! He was ruining all of Harry's plans.

As Harry stood, shocked beyond though for a moment and scrambling for his plans, Draco, ice-white and glorious, stepped forward. He face twisted into a snarl, all shock gone as he processed Harry's betrayal. "You bastard," he hissed. And smiled.

---

Draco was finally coming back to Hogwarts. He was going to enter the school, plead some unexplained incident, and kill Dumbledore for the Dark Lord. The man had been simply thrilled by Draco's revelation of vampiricism. He had decided that Draco was not an inconvenience at all – now, he was equipped to do the job he had once been meant to do. Kill the Headmaster.

Draco had agreed. He would kill anyone the Dark Lord wanted, if it gained him access to the man's inner sanctum and allowed Draco to kill him. He would kill Dumbledore – the man meant nothing to him. And the Voldemort. Draco nearly licked his lips in anticipation, though he planned on staying about twenty feet from the man's blood at all times.

All would be well. He would have his family back. Draco felt warm inside and he felt his heart – stilled for so long – nearly beat with the excitement.

He dimly remembered trying to kill Dumbledore before the Incident. He had been terrified then. Now he wasn't.

Draco walked up the long path to the castle from Hogsmeade, taking his time. Hogwarts glowed above him. Draco stared up at the bright windows and smiled. He loved the school. This had been his dream - to come back here - and here he finally was.

Finally Draco walked up the steps leading into the school. The front doors were open, and he wandered through the antechambers until he was almost to the Great Hall. He heard voices from within, but not the sound of a crowd. Good. He didn't wish to deal with students. If he could just figure out the Headmaster's location...

Draco peeked around the corner, into the Great Hall, and was stunned by what he saw. Harry Potter speaking with Albus Dumbledore.

Draco gasped slightly and stepped into the Hall. Fury consumed him. After all these years, and all his pleading, Harry Potter had done exactly what he had sworn was madness - returned to Hogwarts. Draco saw red but pushed his anger as far away as possible. Harry was looking at him - with surprise and guilt covering his face.

Draco felt a bitter glee in having provoked such emotion in Harry, after so long with nothing from him.

He found his rage to be suddenly cold, and knew that he would kill Harry right here. He stepped forward and smiled. "You bastard."

Harry recovered quickly, his face smoothing over. He simply stared at Draco. Dumbledore stepped forward and began, "Mr Malfoy."

But Draco ignored him completely, and faster than the human eye could see, stepped over to Harry and raised his hand to strike him. But when he got there Harry had already moved away and was standing on the other side of the room, arms clenched tight around him.

The teachers there stared at them both in shock. Draco's fury grew. Harry, Harry, Harry. After all the years of patronizing Draco, of pretending to listen to him, of playing the weaker of the two. Harry was just as fast and as devious as Draco, and had hid the fact forever. Oh, he was going to kill Harry. He'd ruined everything. Everything.

Draco saw his life and dreams shattering as he stared at Harry.

So as fast as he could, he moved.


	23. Part XXII

_Let us roll our strength and all_

_Our sweetness up into one ball,_

_---_

They fought.

Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore stared at the two young men as they fought each other. Both moved like streaks of light, pausing only for the briefest instant to strike blows at each other before rushing off. They bounded around the Great Hall for a moment, and were gone.

Harry gasped for breath as Draco leapt after him. He hadn't had to move so fast in a long time. Pure icy hatred froze his heart. Everything had been going so well. He had been so close to solving the problem of Draco. And perhaps even retrieving his old life, a voice deep within him whispered. He crushed it.

Then Draco had had to show up. He'd forced Harry's hand. Harry snarled to himself. No one would believe his story now - not after he had had to move so fast. He'd given himself away.

Finally, Harry was able to get out of that maze of a school. Whatever Draco had done to Harry, it hadn't turned him into a vampire. It had given him some things, like speed and longevity, but not others, like darkness and blood. And Draco had always been a minute bit faster. He needed to be outside to have any sort of edge over the other.

So as soon as possible, Harry flung himself onto the front lawn, and with the moon shining down on them they froze.

Harry turned and ran towards the lake. His steps whispered against the icy grass, barely touching the tips of the blades before he moved on. It was his only chance to survive, out here. Draco looked angry enough to kill him. He obviously believed that he had been betrayed.

As he had been, his inner voice whispered. Harry ran and ran. He slammed to a stop at the edge of the lake, and listened to Draco swarm up behind him.

Then, as Draco was about to hit him with unthinkable speed, Harry shifted to the side and allowing Draco to throw himself into the lake. Harry waited a moment until Draco hit with a flailing splash, and dove in after him.

Draco fell through the dark water. He struggled, but Harry swam downward toward him with swift stokes, grasped him, and kept swimming down.

Here, Harry had the advantage. He could swim but Draco couldn't. And Draco couldn't use his greater strength or speed against him underwater. Down they went. It was completely black down here, in the water, but Harry knew that it would only remain dark with the sun down. No matter how deep he went, the lake was not deep enough to shut out the sun once it rose.

Harry shoved Draco, who was panicking fiercely, under him, and seized nearby weeds. He pulled out his wand and with a flick the seaweed wound itself around Draco. Draco was pulled roughly against the rocky wall of the lake. He stared up at Harry with desperate eyes. Harry simply kicked forward, found Draco's wand in his robes, and took it.

He saw Draco pushing back against the rock with all his strength, but he couldn't break the binds. Harry's magic was too strong.

He swam back to the surface holding two wands.

Harry stayed in the area until dawn. He sat on the hill overlooking the lake, watching to be sure that Draco could not escape. He wanted Draco to die there - and die today. He was sick of Draco – sick of the problems he caused and his terrible optimism and his ability to get whatever he wanted.

Slowly the sky turned navy blue and a crimson tint stained the horizon. Harry stared at it. Then he looked back at the lake. The sun rose over the horizon. The water below him was quiet. He listened intently, and as the sun rose higher and higher he heard faint screams, garbled by the lake water.

Draco was screaming. He could feel the sun, then.

Harry smiled slightly as he watched the sun rise higher. He glanced back to the school and saw small figures milling about by the entrance, obviously feeling confident enough to search for him now that dawn had come. He slipped his wand out and cast a few privacy and repelling spells, then turned back to the water.

The screaming grew louder, and the water churned slightly. Harry stood, wand out. Surely, Draco couldn't have…Suddenly Draco burst from the lake, gasping and crying. As the sunlight hit his skin he burst into flames and screamed. Burning, he pulled himself onto the shore.

Harry watched him warily, but Draco was in far too much pain to escape, and Harry's privacy spells held his screams in, so no one at the school noticed. The fire around Draco grew brighter and sharper. Watching him, Harry thought he saw Draco's eyes snap up to him. Then Draco was moving toward him. Draco moved faster then even Harry could see - faster than Harry had ever seen him move before.

"_Reducto!_" Harry whispered, and Draco was thrown into the ground just in front of him – a bizarre parody of obeisance. He tried to rise again, but sank to the ground wearily. He cries could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire that consumed him.

"Why, Harry?" His voice was soft, yet clear despite it all.

Harry stared at him, head cocked. He watched as the flames around Draco began to die down and turn a golden yellow. He felt a certain relief curl through him. He wanted close his eyes and sink to the ground, the feeling was so strong. Finally.

But he knew that he had to answer Draco – he owned him that.

"I've had to live with you and your fantasies for thousands of years. You wanted what I could never have. If can't have this life back, neither will you." Harry looked at him and sighed. Draco had turned black and charred, and Harry could see the ash fall from him as he moved.

Draco's eyes flared silver for a moment. "You never tried," he said, voice ashy. Then Draco's eyes dulled and he fell still. The fire burned still, and Harry let it spark and flare until the body fell to ash completely.

Then Harry stepped forward and, with a sweep of his wand, dispersed the ashes. They flew out over the fields and lake, irretrievable.

Gone, then. Draco was truly, finally gone. And he felt only gladness.

_

* * *

AN: Yeah, no happy ending. It was in the warnings, I swear. Character death, insanity._


	24. Part XXIII

_And tear our pleasures with rough strife,_

_through the iron gates of life;_

_---_

Harry left Draco - what had been Draco - behind. His task was done. Draco was dead and his plan ruined - though Harry's plan had been strangled in the process. Harry looked around. The sun was high - not yet noon.

Harry didn't know what to do. This was not unusual - he had often been at a loss for an occupation throughout his lifetime. What was unusual was that he had no idea about the future. Harry had always known what was coming. Now he had no idea.

He shifted, and in the grass near where Draco had burned glinted something silver. Quickly he stepped forward and scooped it up. It was a silver ring. A signet ring - the top bore the curled M for Malfoy. Harry rolled it his palm for a moment. It never grew any warmer. He slipped it into a pocket. Well, there was one thing that he could do.

But he had to pick something up from the Headmaster's office first.

With a flick of his wand he dismantled the privacy wards and turned. And he was gone.

---

Harry appeared in front of tall metal gate and slipped the object he had stolen from Dumbledore's office under robes. Black iron rose high in front of him, curling in on itself intricately. Through the gaps Harry could see a straight lane leading to a sprawling old-style house. He nodded. Malfoy Manor. His blind-apparation, while guesswork, had been correct. Harry reached forward and with a small magic pushed the gates open.

They resisted him, but he was able to push them far enough apart to slip through. A flash of white out of the corner of his eye caused Harry to whip his head to the right. He saw a great white peacock eyeing him and raised an eyebrow. Very Malfoy. Before it could cry he was gone, and stood at the front door.

There was no knob, so he knocked. A house elf opened the door and by the time it had finished bowing he was up the stairs and at the door to another room. He listened for a moment. No one inside. Quickly Harry walked along the corridor, pausing to listen at each door to see if there was anyone inside. And who was inside. Finally, six doors down, he heard the right voice.

The door was locked, but as soon as his hand touch the handle, the voices inside ceased.

Then, "Well, Harry Potter." The voice was high and cold, and as it spoke the lock clicked open. Harry slipped inside and gazed at Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord smiled. Lucius Malfoy sat in a chair across the room, and near Voldemort Severus Snape stared at Harry intensely.

"You have wonderful timing, Harry," Voldemort continued, "Severus was just telling us how you killed Draco Malfoy." He smiled hideously. "Very admirable, but a waste, I think."

Harry simply looked at Snape. The man should not have been able to get past his privacy spells. Perhaps he had simply inferred. _Or had a spy_, Harry thought as he fingered the ring in his pocket. What spells were on it, he wondered.

When Harry looked back to Voldemort, the Dark Lord had his wand out. "_Avada Kedavra."_

Harry slipped to the side and the spell tore apart the wall behind him. Lucius Malfoy was standing with his wand out, but made no further move - simply watched Harry and the Dark Lord. Snape seemed to be watching for any opening.

Everything seemed to slow. Voldemort turned his wand and Harry slipped his away, simultaneously pulling Gryffindor's sword from his robes. He blinked over to the Dark Lord's side and swung the sword. At the last instant Voldemort saw it coming but he couldn't move fast enough.

The sword sliced through the edge of Voldemort's jaw and his neck. Head and body fell. Harry threw the sword aside, its job done. It landed with a chime. Harry pulled his wand out, "_Incendio," _and Voldemort's body was consumed by the flames.

Behind him, Lucius Malfoy fell heavily into his chair, perhaps stunned by the speed at which his Lord had been destroyed. Harry watched him bury his face in his hands. He looked at Snape in the corner for a long moment. Then he simply walked over and past the man and stood in the pure light streaming in through the window.

He wished that it would consume him, and it had Draco. He had felt nothing but calculation for so long. Perhaps death would cure this malady.

The next world would be kinder, undoubtedly.

The second sun of Voldemort's destruction burned behind him, far hotter than the star in the sky. With a rustle of robes barely heard over the flames, Snape moved towards him. "Have you forgotten the Horcruxes, Potter?"

Harry turned and looked at Snape - his dark, determined eyes and his calmly pointed wand - but made no move toward his own wand, tucked into a pocket deep in his robes. Across the room, Lucius Malfoy looked up.

Harry blinked at Snape. The Horcruxes, of course. Voldemort was not truly dead, then. They had yet to be destroyed. He felt a slow gladness fill him at the idea of something to do next. It was not yet over. There was still more.

But Harry didn't understand. He needed to destroy the Horcruxes, didn't he? Why would Snape be so aggressive towards him? Snape need him, he was sure. Harry's brow furrowed slightly and he turned towards the man, his mind still clicking back into action. Then Snape spoke.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

Frozen by surprise and the blinding green light of the spell, Harry fell.


	25. Epilogue

_Thus, though we cannot make our sun_

_Stands still, yet we will make him run._

_---_

When he opened his eyes, Harry saw white. Slowly the white resolved itself into misty shapes, and Harry realized that he was in some sort of parody of King's Cross Station.

Joy flooded through him as he recognized the place. He burst into sudden tears of happiness and relief at the feeling. The strength of his emotion overwhelmed him. After all this time, finally, _finally he could FEEL_! He hadn't felt true, blistering emoton in forever.

Laughing through his tears, Harry stood and looked around. Giddly he sat down on a nearby bench. Something small was crying underneath it, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He could feel again.

_If I could bring this feeling with me_, he thought, I would live again.

---

* * *

_AN: That's it. It's finished. I pushed through to finish these last chapters all at once, and I'm glad that I did. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review. _


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